Fairytales Don't Exist, I
by His Little LabRat
Summary: Craig swears he isn't gay. He swears he's straight. But back in middle school, he kissed Clyde, and now Tweek's acting a little strange... now, he has to face himself. Or rather, face Clyde & his feelings. Cryde, little Creek. Mature events later.


???

Craig / Clyde

Stories are all the same; straight out of fairytale. You know the ones; the ones with the two best friends who love each other very much & never stray from each other, or the ones with the prince who saves the fair princess, or the ones where the guy gets the girl. We all know those stories, we've all memorized those stories and we've all been read them every night by our parents before we go to bed for maybe six or eight years.

This is not that story.

This is my story. And, to be honest, it's fucking bullshit.

My name is Craig Tucker. If you knew me, you probably wouldn't like me. In all honesty, I probably wouldn't like you either. The few who do like me are a bit strange, though. I question why they still like me. Often. Of course, some of the people I like don't like me, but that's not how I'm saying it. The way you're thinking of it is probably that I like people, like some stupid, love-sick, crushing puppy, but that's not what I mean. Or is it? I'm not even sure any more.

At any rate, the few who are with me aren't really there. Sure, we hang out, but it's different then it was when we were children. Nowadays, I hang out with only a select few. Everyone else basically ignores us, and we basically ignore them. Things are hardly different from when we were kids. Nothing ever changes in this shit-hole anyway. Or at least, nothing changes _much_. And what does change, is usually very little. To the rest of my group any way. After middle school, my life was different. But I'll tell you about that later.

I'm sure everything I'm saying about my life sounds exactly like any other teen's. The whole "my life sucks worse than yours & everybody else's" spiel. I know my life is better than a lot of peoples' lives. I personally, just think it sucks. Maybe you'll understand as I continue my story. Maybe you won't. Or maybe you're just like me. Probably not, but there's always that slim chance that you just might be.

Today is a Friday. And just like every other Friday I've ever experience in high school, my group of friends wants to go party. Or, at least, Token & a few others I don't know the names of in out group do. So I guess I'll go with them. I don't have anything better to do than hang out with these losers. I would drop it & not go to the party, but Tweek's working tonight & Token's gonna need someone to drive him home. So I'll play designated driver. Besides, "everyone's gonna be there," so maybe I can find Kenny before he gets high or whatever it is that he wants to do tonight. He'll be okay to hang out with until that point.

You see, I don't care if Kenny gets high, I just don't wanna have to baby-sit his pansy-ass while he _is_ high. Too lazy. I mean, I'm already gonna baby-sit Token & his drinking buddies; I don't wanna work any more than I already have to. So someone else - probably Butters - will have to take care of Kenny's drunken or high antics. Besides, when he's drunk, he's a friggin' sex fiend. And for just about anyone, too. No homo for me, thanks. Because I'm not a fag. No, really. I'm not a closet-case or whatever the hell it is. I'm _not_ gay & I _don't_ like Clyde!

Clyde…

Ah, shit.

Clyde. Clyde'll probably be at the party. He's a socialite. Everyone likes him & its almost impossible not to. He's a giant 'social butterfly.' Or, you know, whatever that simile or metaphor thing is. Because he's cute & funny & smiles genuinely all the time at everything & cries because he's a sissy & laughs at being alive &… no, I hate him! I'm _not_ gay. He's _everyone's_ best friend. Except mine. He's no longer my best friend. He can't again, not after--

"You missed the turn, dude."

"What?"

"I said, 'you missed the fucking turn.'" Token said that in a rather snappy voice, which kinda pisses me off. Then again, a lot of things piss me off. When things piss me off, I do what everyone expects me to do. I flip him the bird. He just laughs as I turn the car around.

"Shut up, Token. Just shut up."

"It's cool, dude," he tells me, almost like I apologized to him. Which I'm pretty sure I didn't. Have I ever said "I'm sorry?" Probably not. And if I did, I'd be very surprised, as would everyone else that I even knew the meaning of the word or any of its synonyms. "You just haven't changed much, dude." Like hell I haven't. Same lame, blue chullo & messy black-brown hair hidden underneath as it just pops up from under the blue fabric, lazy personality & gestures. Same everything. Don't you see? Nothing changes in this shit-hole, I told you. And when something does "change," everyone already knew it, so it doesn't surprise us much.

"Yeah, yeah, don't give me that spiel again." I pull into an empty spot among the flock of cars & even greater number of teenagers next to the house. "Hey, you see Kenny?" I put the car into park. Turning off the engine, I take out the keys & look at Token.

"Yeah, there he is." Token points out his window. Fuck, it's kinda dark outside, so I can't really see. This party-host decided to be smart & cover the windows very nicely so no one can really tell, but it blocks out a lot of light, and his side of the car is facing away from the streetlights & little lamp-post thing, making it even darker.

"What? Where?" I ask, leaning over the compartment doohickey between me & the passenger seat.

"Right there," he states even louder, light emphasizing his words will somehow help me see. I squint as he continues pointing over his window. Can't see. "See?" No. "With Butters & the rest of his gang." I roll my eyes & sit up, opening my door & leaning out to stand up to lean over the car, resting my elbows on the white metal of the roof of the little car.

"Hey, fucker!" All of Kenny's gang turns around to me, but Kenny laughs as I flip him off. The others are slightly offended by it, I think, but they should be used to it by now. Then he flips me the bird. So he's not high yet, it appears.

I lean back down, hands still on the top of the car. "Hey, Token, get out the car." He looks at me with that thank-you-Captain-Obvious look. You know the one, just like everyone does. He unlocks his seatbelt - did I use my seatbelt? Probably not, because I don't remember doing it or undoing it. Oh well - and opens his door, half-tumbling out with a slightly graceful step. Sticking my hand in the pocket where the cars are, I click the lock button, just after Token shuts his door, then I shut my own. I click the lock button again & Token, being in front of the car, jumps like a pansy. I think he jumped a few inches off the ground. Score one for me. "Quit bein' a pansy." He just glares back at me, so I flip him off again. Just because I can.

We start off toward the house. "You can go right in." Token looks at me, and I slightly shake my head. "I'm gonna stay outside for a little before heading in." He nods at me.

"'Kay," he nods again, continuing to walk & giving me the A-OK sign as he walks away. "See you inside, then."

"Yeah," I say back blankly as he walks right into the slightly-dark, teen-age filled house. As soon as he's in, I look back at Kenny, who has his hands in the orange pockets of his hoodie & that same, wild smirk on his face. I give him two minutes, then he'll be up to go get high. The rest of his gang continues to chatter among themselves from their little circle formation on the lawn. When Kenny comes over to me, though, Butters looks after him for a moment with a worried face, until someone asks him something & he turns away from Kenny again.

"Well, well, well," Kenny says, doing a little shimmy up to me & dropping one arm over my shoulders. "Sup, Tuck? Didn't expect to see you here." I shrug lightly.

"I'm only a driver for Token." He nods in a way that suggests that he already knew I was only the designated driver.

"You wouldn't come here otherwise, right?"

"Right."

"Right," he repeats. Freakin' parrot. I just stare down at him a little incriminatingly. But then again, I suppose I'm always a bit intimidating. He studies me a second.

"Whatever, I'm here so I'm here," I shrug. "Just don't like parties. But I don't have anything better to do except come & talk to you until you get high." He stops a second, blank-faced, quiet.

"Yeah, about that… I'll be back later," he says, taking his arm back & pointing toward the house with a smile. "I'm going to go get high now, 'kay?" He says it likes it's a typical, everyday conversation. To him, it just might be. He winks at me then rushes off. Either way, I won't be here after he gets high & comes back to look for me. I don't wanna put up with him too, the sex addict; Butters can do that. For a second, I almost feel pity for the girly blond boy, but then I realize that I don't really care and just stop… caring.

But with Kenny gone to go get high or drunk or whatever he feels like he wants to do, I guess I don't really have any reason to stay outside any longer. I mean, "everyone's" supposed to be here, but I wonder who's really here. I can bet my ass Clyde's here. And if he's not already here, he'll be here sooner than later.

As soon as I open the door to the house, the music becomes the first thing to reach me. Jesus Christ! I think I'm deaf already! How can anyone hear themselves think? Maybe I can just leave; I shouldn't have come in the first place. Maybe Token can call me when he needs me to drive him home… or he'll be too drunk to realize he has a phone & walk home & get raped or get hit by a car! Stupid Token, stupid! Ruining my chances of leaving already. And speaking of the devil, there he is - by the couch in the living room, playing beer pong already. And winning already. And getting drunk already. Doesn't he ever get tired of going to these lame-ass parties? I mean, there's nothing to do in here unless you're getting drunk or getting high. Speaking of drinking & getting high, I bet Kenny's in the back by now, purging his weight in one drug or another or just yarfing on someone prissy drunk girl's shoes after too many drugs taken all at once. Damn idiots. Nothing to do for the sober kids.

Token won again.

I go sit on the staircase & try to push myself into deep thought again, contemplating my next plot again. I can hear some noises upstairs that I don't _even_ want to know about. What is there do but wait & watch anyway? The rest of the night will probably be uneventful - for me at least. Some of the drunks or druggies are grabbing at each other & trying to make their way up the stairs past me while giggling drunkenly & stumbling all over the place. A few even have the blotto gull to trip of me until the point where I pushed one girl so hard she fell up the stairs. But she was too sloshed to notice that I pushed her & giggled like any drunk would, so I just left the stairs & wandered around for a bit, just looking to see who I could find at this lame party. I see Bebe Stevens trying to slut-out on Token, and I can't tell if he's too tanked to resist or just wants it, but that whore-mouth of hers is just _everywhere_. Basically, she's licked everywhere she's been. Like that weird saying that's like, "if you licked your foot, you've tasted everywhere you've been" or whatever is the same as sleeping with this blond slut - you get a little taste of everyone she's slept with, and rumor has it that the number of people she _hasn't_ slept with is very few, and the STDs she got is probably sky high on the charts. Just sayin'. I'm one those few who _hasn't_ slept with her, thank you very much. Though, I don't even remember if I'm a virgin or not, but I do know that I haven't gotten it on with this chick. I don't remember, though, because I don't care very much. Maybe I'm a virgin, maybe I'm not. Don't remember, don't care. Though I probably am a virgin, I just don't care to recall, and I sure as hell won't admit it to anyone other than myself. But still, I don't want to do it with Bebe or anyone else she's "connected" with, if you know what I mean. Sleeping with them would be like sleeping with Bebe, and sleeping with Bebe just means you hired a prostitute & now you've got an STD because you just screwed with a girl who's screwed half the world. Besides, she's not even that hot! She's not hot at all. She's just got huge boobs, that's all these guys care about. She's still an ugly bitch who's slept with the entire worldly population, almost. I wonder if she's slept with Clyde. I wonder if Clyde's slept with anyone.

No, by the way- I don't like Clyde and I don't wonder because I want him all for myself - which I don't - or because I want him to be mine & mine alone. Which I don't. I'm just wondering if he has or just hasn't. Simple curiosity.

I mean, Clyde did date her once or twice back in elementary school, but Bebe just wanted him for shoes because his dad owns a shoe store & everyone knows that girls love shoes, and that's the only reason he was at the top of the List. Back then when the List was actually written, he was still pretty chubby - like baby fat, not like that fat-ass Cartman - but now he's thinned down, so he's much cuter… no, I mean, _I_ don't think he's cute or anything, but lots of girls do! And they like his sensitivity or… you get the idea. Girls find that bullshit attractive or whatever.

Speaking - or rather, thinking, but that sounds pretty gay - of Clyde, I haven't seen him yet. I mean, I don't exactly want to see him or anything - I'm not gay, seriously - but he's usually the life of the party. He's got to be here, and I know he is here somewhere. He's not the kinda guy to miss a party when he can/ The social insect thing.

As I walk around, I don't see him. Maybe he really isn't here, but I doubt that. If he wasn't, I'm surprised, really. I thought he would be here. Though, as I turn the corner, I see him coming down the stairs, zipping up his pants. I think my face just caught on fire. Did he just… have sex? No, he couldn't have. As he tries to turn the corner, I raise my hand & run it through his hair, to which he shivers out a moan. Whoa. That was kinda… hot. No, Craig, no! You're not gay; you're not a faggot! So I clench my fist & pull him backwards by his chocolate hair. He whines, grabbing & clutching at me like I'm a rapist - not gay - and tries to remove my hand. He doesn't know it's me until I put him backwards again so he's leaning over and he's looking up at me. He closes his mouth & his eyes go wide. Shock.

"You were upstairs." It's not a question. It's a statement.

"Yeah," he says, but ti molds into an "ah" of pain as I yank his hair again.

"Why were you upstairs?" Why do I even care? I don't really, it's just curiosity still. So I pull his hair again. His little, pale hands clutch at mine again, giving small yelps of pain as I tangle my hand in his hair. He whines out in slight agony again.

"I was in the bathroom!" He cries. No, I mean, he really cries, like tears rolling down his cheeks & everything. Overly-sensitive, emotionally-attached-to-everything sissy. Always been like that. I'm glad that the staircase is tucked into a cubby-like corner hidden by a wall to the rest of the crowd, or someone would have come by now to help him. I stare down at him as he whines in pain again. I'm glad the music is so loud, or they'd probably have heard us by now. I'm glad they're all drunk & stoned or they'd all look at us strangely & gasp & trying to stop me while I pull on his hair. But when they're drunk, they don't care.

"With?" Another question, but it's only curiosity. Not jealousy or paranoia. Just curiosity.

"What do you…" the word "you" slowly forms into another yelp before he can even finish the sentence. Tugging on his hair again. "Me! It was only me…" I untangle my hand from his hair swiftly & he almost stumbles backwards onto me. I push him off though with a light shove & continue on my way. I hear him groaning & rubbing his head as I walk past him, then the music hits me & I can't hear his whining any more.

I want to find Token. So I can just leave already. He's already too drunk anyway, might as well start driving now, I mean, I don't wanna stick around here & look at him any longer. I can't bear to look at him any longer than necessary.

I'm glad he doesn't call after me. Because he knows I won't turn around. I don't wanna look at his face. I leave him crying at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe someone'll trip on him instead this time.

Of course, once I find Token, Bebe's got her tongue down his throat. Gross. How can he withstand that? Maybe he's drugged. I tap Bebe's shoulder & she turns around to look at me, a string of shiny saliva connecting her mouth to Token's, who's just got this drunk face on. I tell her to move with a jerk of my head. "I'm takin' him home." She looks offended, like I just told her, "Go fuck someone else." Which, technically, I did. I just did it very subtly. She frowns at me, calls me a cock-blocker & walks away to find the next victim. Token rolls his head & laughs at me, telling me I look pretty stupid. I give him the finger. I'm blowin' this popsicle stand. Er… in the not-gay way… fuck, I'm just leaving. "Come on, Token, get your drunk-ass up." He laughs at me like I'm a goddamn comedian. I just wanna go home.

Laughing in a totally stereotypically sloshed way, he says, "Craig, you're so funny, man! You should be a comedian, goddamn!" And laughs some more in a slur. What'd I tell you. I hate drunk guys. I don't give a shit (not to be confused with 'I don't give a fuck') any more. I'm gonna make like a tree & get the fuck outta here. I tug on his arm & he gets up with that typical tipsy stagger, then I tug him out the door. He laughs and asks where we're going as I shove him into the passenger's seat. He laughs absently.

"Craig!"

I turn around slowly, looking for the person who said my name. I don't see anyone, though. Maybe I'm going crazy & just hearing things. So I turn around to buckle his seatbelt, leaning over him. He laughs & I can smell his alcohol-laced breath. God, the alcohol is so strong it almost got _me_ drunk. I cough & stand up, trying to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose. It smells like he drank whiskey straight, the crazy fuck. Remind me never to be the designated driver again. I close the door; cut off the smell. I swear, if he yarfs all over my car, I'm gonna kill his little black ass. Either way, I circle the car & climb into the driver's seat, buckle my seatbelt & quickly place my keys in the ignition, starting the car so I can just leave. I'd like to be home now. And that's exactly where I'm going as I practically slam my foot down on the gas after I pull out & turn around on the little street.

As I look in the rear view mirror, though, I think I see Clyde standing outside the house. Objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear…

I drop off Token quickly & lead him up to his room without him hurling once. Lucky day, I guess. Ha-ha, that's funny, isn't it? This day has sucked so far. Nothing but slacking in school & going to a party that I didn't do anything at. Yay me.

Nothing but the sound of night in this lazy town sounds on my way home. For that, I'm glad. Maybe I can sleep tonight. It sounds like a good idea. Sleep…

I crawl up the side of my house quietly. I've basically been trained to do it since I was five. Be quiet, that is. Well, not necessarily quiet, but you know what I mean. I've always stayed out late with friends & the like since I was little. My parents just never knew, and now I don't intend for them to figure it out any time soon. Luckily, my bed is conveniently placed right under the window I'm crawling up to using the gutter. It's pretty stable. It's held me up for a few years, I think it can handle me as it has every other Friday - or Saturday morning, as it is now, I think. The gutter groans in protest. I attempt to flick it off, but end up right back into the snow. Just my luck! So I stick my middle finger higher up into the air at the side of my house. I'll just go in through the front door. Not like my family would care. They probably won't even notice. If they did, they'd just wave it off. Or, they'd flip me the bird, actually. It's a family thing. Whatever. I just wanna go to bed so I can do nothing tomorrow… er, the rest of today.

Jingling my keys blankly as I crunch through the snow that litters my lawn, I walk up to door. I wanna get inside already. It's fuckin' cold out here, man. As soon as I'm actually in, I take off my shoes, after sorting through my keys & testing each one until I get the right key to my house, that is. I kick my shoes to the side lazily and step up the stairs quietly. From the stairs, I saw my sister on the couch, who was probably too lazy to say hello to me or just didn't notice at all while watching the TV. Typically Tucker family.

I just gotta say, laying down on your own bed is nice after you've been sitting for like nineteen million hours on a staircase getting tripped over by drunk teenagers on their way to the bedroom because there was nothing else to do. Never driving Token home again. Next time, I'm making damn sure that Tweek's off work. Or I can just stay home & do nothing, maybe watch re-runs of Red Racer… yeah, I've watched that show since I was like four. It's still a good show. If I wanted to, I could recite a whole episode on the spot. You name the episode, I've probably got it down.

I stretch out lazily across the sheets of my bed. I'm too lazy to get up & change again into something more comfortable, so I just try to sleep as I am. I mean, I can change in the morning, or whenever I wake up. Sleeping in pajamas or clothes ain't gonna matter much when you're actually asleep.

Fuck. Just turn off, brain. I need to sleep sometime, you know. Can't just stay awake all night thinking about stuff. You know how that goes - it's never cool…

Sleep sounds nice…

- - - - - - - -

…

Huh?

Where am I? This place looks a little familiar… I think I've been here before. A lot. Like, a lot a lot, you know? Wait… is this my middle school cafeteria?

Yeah, it is… why am I in the middle school cafeteria? It feels like déjà vu… is this a dream? I definitely don't look like a high schooler… neither does anyone else sitting at this lunch table, though…

I look across the table from where I'm sitting, look up from my food to Clyde & Tweek & Token. They're all chatting & then Clyde stands up from the table suddenly. Like, right in the middle of conversation. He just stands up. We all look at him. He looks at all of us, but his gaze lingers on me a second longer, I think.

"I'm goin' to the nurse," he says, shaking his head & holding his stomach. "Not feeling real well. You guys can have the rest of my food if you want. I don't want it…" he says and we all just stare at him like he's got a third eye. I mean, Clyde doesn't want his food? He _must_ be sick! He pushes his food blankly toward us, with a little pathetic wave & then wanders off toward the cafeteria door. He looks back at me a moment - not Token and Tweek and me, but just me. Only me. Then he turns and leaves & turns the corner, disappearing behind the awkwardly white brick walls of the caf.

"Yeah, guys, I'll be right back too." Token raises an eyebrow at me.

"You sick too?"

"Oh, geez!" Tweek squeals. "It must be a pandemic or something!" Twitch. "Maybe its a new disease or something! What if it's incurable?!"

"Shut up, Tweekers." I roll my eyes & stand up. Walking past Tweek, I gently place my hand on his head. He does that little yelp of his in slight surprise. "It's gonna be fine." He calms himself for a moment then nods under my hand slightly. After patting him on the head - "Good boy," just like a dog - I leave. I follow his footsteps, basically to a T. I wonder where he's going anyway? The way he's headed isn't to the nurse at all - the nurse's office is on the other side of the school from where he's going. I keep my eyes on him, peering around a corner, watching him carefully. "Where are you going, Clyde?" It's a whisper, a rhetorical question that's currently unanswered & only to be asked to myself. Yeah, sometimes I talk to myself. But as long as I never answer, I'm good.

Clyde looks back suddenly. Did he hear me? Shit! He looks the other way, like he's checking both ways before crossing the street. He opens the door in front of him, and disappears into the library. The library? Clyde doesn't like reading all that much. He seems more like a sports kid to me. I mean, he's on football after all, and passes gym class with like a 109 every marking period. How he eve managed that, I'll never know. Maybe it's because he never misses a day of that damn class. I skip it all the time. Too lazy to go, too lazy to play.

I move from the corner to follow him.

The library, to be honest, is probably the quietest place in school. No one ever goes there. I think a few kids do, but they're far & few between. Maybe someone like Kyle'll go in here every once and a while, but no one else does. Not even the librarian. They usually go somewhere else because no students come in to check books. Ever. The library's just like that.

I step into the library & close the door silently behind me. Don't wanna be caught right off the bat, ya know? Yeah, you should know. They do it in a lot of movies. The need to be stealthy type thing. Yeah, that. Anyway… I don't see Clyde. Is he really reading? Or just cutting through the library to the other side? Either way, he lied to us about going to the nurse. Why am I even following him - do I care about it? I usually don't, so why do I? Too many questions without answers.

I hear a few books fall on the floor nearby, so I lean forward and peer around the bookcase. Clyde has a few books, and he's sitting under one of the book cases, facing away from me. Of the books he has, I can't read out any of the names. Most of the books are fairly thin, but others are a little bit bigger. But not by much. I wonder what he's reading that he has that many books, and how he got them all so quickly.

He lifts one hand slightly & casually rubs his side. He murmurs something I can't exactly hear, so I lean farther forward around the bookcase to strain myself. He was cursing under his breath. He must have fallen over, and the books just fell on top of him when he reached for one. I wonder which one he wanted? He starts picking up the books slowly, looking at the spines & studying them carefully to put them back into some order I can't exactly decipher. Isn't that the Doohickey Decimal System or whatever? Darwin? Drew? Dewey? Something with a D. To be honest, I'm sure we learned it in English class, but I speak the English language, why would I have to continue to be in that class until I graduate college? It's pointless. So I never pay attention in that class. That's right. I'm the slacker extraordinaire.

Having lost myself in thought, I come back to reality as Clyde, up on a little stool because he's a little short to reach, starts putting the books back on the shelf that they apparently fell from - in order of the Damien System thing. Wait, no, that's the name of Satan's kid, so that's probably not right… Oh well. I'm just confusing myself.

Clyde suddenly jumps & retracts his hand, jumping backward & completely falling over yet again. He cries out softly as his finger bleeds onto the floor. A paper cut? He hisses through his teeth & brings the finger to his mouth to suck on, giving a little groan here & there from the pain.

To be honest, it's almost… erotic.

Shit! Fuck, no! No homo, no homo! You're straight, Craig. _Straight_!

I shake my head wildly to stray the thought of Clyde sucking on his fingers. And hit my head on the book case next to me. Just my luck!

With a gasp, Clyde turns around, then rushes quickly to hide his books. What's he need to hide them for? They're just books…

I hold my head & hiss slightly as I feel my temple throb in pain. Man, what a dumb move! I blame you, Clyde. Sucking your fingers while making noises like that… it's all your fault! Why did he even turn me on in the least? We're both guys, and I'm pretty sure neither of us is gay! I know I'm not!

"C-Craig?" He chokes the first time. I can almost hear him gulp from where he's sitting on the floor next to the tipped-over stool that he hid his books behind. He stares at me wide-eyed. Never know those pretty blue eyes - goddammit, Craig! You sounded _so_ gay - could get so big. Or seem so afraid to see me. Usually when he sees me, his smile grows & he looks really happy. So what crawled up his butt & suddenly twisted? He looks almost in pain.

"Auhh, yeah?" I ask over a groan, pressing my palm over my eye.

"Wh-when'd you get there?" He asks.

"Not even gonna ask if I'm okay?" He stares at me as I add a little laugh to it, his eyes getting a little wider. Didn't think that was possible at this point. I remove my hand from my head & look at it. No blood - I'm good for now. "Probably gonna get a headache after this," I tell myself. Ode to joy. I move closer to him & then he scrambles quickly to get up, pushing the stool slightly to try & hide the books more. "I thought you were going to the nurse, but then I saw you go the other way, so…" I trail off, as if trying to justify why I'm here in the first place. It's just curiosity, really. He laughs lightly, standing next to me now.

"Aw, were you worried about me?" He asks as he smiles & laughs like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Pansy. I give him the finger. He laughs even harder. "I'll take that as a yes." I shrug, looking away. Then I look back, but toward his books.

"Whatcha' readin'?" I raise an eyebrow in curiosity, peering past him to the books still, half-leaning over. He freaks out, I guess you could say, and smiles at me in innocence.

"N-nothing! I'm not reading anything!" I stare at him blankly.

"Liar." Just staring at him makes him freak out a little bit more every second. He tries to distract me.

"L-let's just go back to lunch, then, huh?" Still trying to get my mind off the books. But I have a one-track mind. He knows his attempts at useless. So, he tries pushing me out from the little cubby of bookshelves to make me go. But this is also useless. In fact, it just heightens my curiosity even more. I look back at him, then quickly push past him & hop over to the stool, kicking it aside because it's just being useless to me. Next thing I know, though. I'm being shoved against the book case that lines the wall. I'm practically winded as I hit it. I grunt as my oxygen escapes me, my head bouncing back & hitting over of the shelves & a few books, causing a few to fall around me - or should I say us? Because Clyde's pinning me against the bookcase, his pale hands holding my shoulders roughly against the wood of the shelves. As soon as I take a deep breath in though so I can continue living, he leans up and smashes our mouths together. My breath escapes me again. He…!

He leans back & stares up at me, afraid of what will go down next, his mouth now hanging open a little. I bet he's cursing so hard in his head, questioning what he just did, because I for one am doing exactly that. I especially question what I do next.

Swiftly, I raise my hands & cups his cheeks tightly, taking his mouth back to mine & pressing our lips together once more. I feel his shocks echo through him at first, but then he gets into and… gah, what the hell am I doing?! Fucking dumb-shit, Tucker! He's your best friend & you're a fucking _heterosexual_, so get the fuck off him!

His hands loosen on my shoulders slightly and his hands begin to slide slowly down my arms as I kiss him. As I _kiss_ him. What the fuck?! But I can't stop myself now. Not even if I try - which I do - I can't stop myself from continuing the kiss. Which is my first. With my best friend. My first kiss. Shit, someone help me…!

He exhales against me, and I shiver slightly as his breath finds its way down my cheeks, moving my lips just slightly. He takes that as an invitation, moving his lips just slightly. I move mine again, but actually part them this time and nip slightly at his lips, eyes completely shut now. He sighs slightly against me as he opens his mouth, trying to tell me that I now have full permission. So I take it. I don't why, but I take it. I should stop, because I'm straight and he's my best friend, but I don't. I want to continue. A pit forms in my stomach & I feel that "butterfly feeling" the girls always talk about. Like I'm nervous. What the hell am I nervous about?! I shouldn't be doing this in the first place, seeing that we're both guys & I'm pretty sure I'm straight, I dunno about him! Fuck me! Wait, no, that came out wrong! Shit, I'm screwing up my life. But my mouth has a mind of its own, even though my mind wants to stop. I feel heat spread all over my body - to one point in specific - as I run my tongue very carefully across his lips. He moves even closer, if that were possible, by wrapping his arms around my neck, and allows me to enter his mouth with my tongue. I feel him shiver and release a moan into my mouth as our tongues clash against each other. The heat spreads some more, the butterflies burst into whirlwinds. At some point in time, I don't know when, my hands had fallen to his waist and wrapped around it. For a sports kid, he's pretty thin. Almost feminine. Is he skipping all his lunches lately?

He presses closer to me still and our chests rub together, and we both let out little moans of delight. I try to hold him closer by wrapping my arm even tighter around his waist, pressing a palm into the small of his back, and his crotch rubs against my leg. He tries to stifle a moan, but it comes out straight against my tongue. I shiver and he presses it against my leg yet again, apparently liking the feel on it being there. He oppresses a cry of delight as he continues to rub against my leg, up until the point where his crotch moves against mine, and I release a hissing grunt into his mouth. No, Craig, no! You're just enticing him more - things'll change; he won't be your friend any more! Stop it, Craig! Just stop, you dumb-shit! But, god, I don't want to now, it's too good…

His fingers press into my back as he continues grinding against me lightly, the sensation of both actions running its course through both of us. The heat spreads and I can feel myself getting a full hard-on… shit! I'm screwed! Fuck, fuck, fuck! No, wait, don't _fuck_! Shit, I need to stop myself…

I push him. He stumbles backward and presses himself to another bookcase. He knows he's done it now. He knows what we've done too, though. He knows what he's done to me. I stare at him, half out of breath. Panting, I jump up to him, hands clutching at his shoulders. He shrieks.

"This never happened." I tell him firmly, looking straight into his eyes with defiance. I'm straight, I'm not gay! I'm a _heterosexual! I think I said that last bit aloud, I'm not sure. Clyde stares back at me, his beautiful - fuck! - blue eyes wide-eyed with fear. He's afraid of me now. He swallows. It's a dry swallow. His eyes grow bloodshot almost immediately and continue to redden. "It never happened!" I yell again. I don't care if I yell. I mean it. There's no one else in the library anyway. Everyone's in lunch or a class far away from us._

"_But, Craig, I--"_

"_I said, 'nothing' happened!'" A tear forms in the corner of his eye, falls down his cheek and onto my shirt. A few more follow, dotting both of our shirts quickly. "It didn't happen!" I scream. I'm straight, I'm not a dirty little faggot! I say it aloud. And I mean it. I'm not gay, and I don't like you, Clyde! Because I'm straight, so I can't like you! I can't, I can't! His tears continue to dot my shirt, turning the blue fabric an even darker blue. He looks down as the tears stream down his face, hiding his eyes with his chocolate-colored hair. He sniffs very quietly and lifts an arm, wiping at one eye with another faint sniff. Then his arms drop down to his sides as he looks down at our shoes, at the floor, at nothing. But maybe he's looking up at me. I can't tell. His sky-blue eyes are hidden. I stare at him, half-shocked. Is he really upset about this? Is he…?_

_He then turns away and pushes past my arms. My gaze doesn't follow him. I know. He wipes at his eyes as he leaves, sniffing. He doesn't say anything to me. I'm left behind, staring at where he once was, one hand holding me up against the bookcase. The door of the library opens. Then it closes, shut, latches._

_I look over slowly to the books. I can see the titles now. They're on gay rights, advice for gays living in today's society, and some random references for other things that I can't see but I can easily guess the topics of. I look back down, eyes scanning nothing. That means he… he really is… gay. A homosexual. And this isn't a dream…_

_It's a memory._


End file.
